


No

by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)



Series: Sterek A-Z Challenge [14]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood, Exsanguination, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Vampires, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-22 18:31:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10702692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasterella/pseuds/isthatbloodonhisshirt
Summary: Derek couldn’t lose Stiles. Stiles was the last piece of him that he had left. If he lost Stiles, he lost everything.If he lost Stiles, he would turn into a wolf, and never turn back. He would have nothing left. He would let himself go feral, losing himself to the animal within. He would disappear.





	No

**Author's Note:**

> Teen Wolf (c) Jeff Davis

Heavy footfalls sounded through the stillness of the night, dry leaves crunching beneath black combat boots. The air was crisp and fresh, but colder than it should be for a late night in August. Puffs of white rose with each rough exhale, figures running through the woods.

The silence tonight did not go unnoticed, nothing but the loud steps of the individuals darting between trees. All the animals seemed to sense their presence and stayed far away, so that nothing was in their paths. The only sound accompanying the thud of running steps was the ever-steady clink of metal on metal that had been permeating the air for days.

Moving swiftly around another tree, the figure at the front stopped abruptly, breathing ragged and chest heaving. The second figure almost crashed right into the first, not having expected the quick stop, but they managed to deke around them at the last second.

Light shone when the figure pulled a phone from the pocket of his dark jeans, bringing it to his ear.

“Did you find him?”

 _"No, but—”_ the person on the other end replied.

“Then why the fuck are you calling me?!”

Derek hung up angrily. It was difficult to hang up a cell phone angrily, but he managed to crack the screen with the force of it.

He rubbed one frustrated hand over his face, smearing dirt across his skin. He felt on edge, stressed, _worried_. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t normal. He didn’t like the uncertainty of what was happening.

Turning to continue on his way, he felt Scott shift beside him and turned to him.

Scott looked exhausted, but he didn’t say anything, corners of his mouth turned downward. Derek knew he wanted to go home, that he wanted to get some rest, but the only reason he didn’t was the same reason Derek and the rest of the pack were all out in the middle of the night.

Turning to face forward again, Derek lifted his head, scenting the air. Catching what he was looking for, he started running again, Scott keeping pace a step behind him.

The two said nothing while they raced through the forest, sweat beginning to trickle down Derek’s back. He could feel his shirt sticking to his skin uncomfortably, but he didn’t let that bother him. Scott was beginning to huff behind him, and after another hour or non-stop running, Derek could hear his steps beginning to slow.

His own legs burned from the constant pace, but he didn’t want to stop. He wanted to keep going. The scent was still there, still right on the edge of his senses. They were catching up. Just a little further. They were so _close_.

Scott stopped.

Derek didn’t, he kept running. He knew why Scott had stopped, but he refused. Maybe it was a trick, maybe it had been done to get them off the trail. To make them think they’d looped back around.

“Derek,” Scott’s voice said from a few feet behind him.

“No,” he snapped, continuing to run.

But the scent was slowly fading, overpowered by another. It was obvious the person they were tracking had not been back around this way again.

Derek’s pace slowed unintentionally until eventually, he stopped, standing in the middle of the dense forest, feeling sick. This wasn’t right, they couldn’t be left with _nothing_.

Scott approached him slowly, misery leaking off him in waves. He stopped beside Derek, puffs of white escaping him with every exhale while they stood staring out into the darkness. Wind rustled the leaves overhead, the clang of metal on metal drifting through the air, and somewhere off in the distance, an animal scurried through the underbrush.

Derek inhaled deeply once more, positive he was wrong, _praying_  he was wrong. But he wasn’t.

He could smell himself. And he could smell Scott.

The scent they were following beneath that was fading.

“They’re messing with us,” Scott said in a low voice. “They’re just… Derek, he isn’t out here. His scent’s all over the place, all over _town_.” A pause. “What if he’s—”

“No,” Derek rounded on Scott, the word more of snarl than anything else. “He’s not. He’s _not_ , Scott!”

“He could be.” Fear began to stink up the air around them, Scott’s eyes widening. “Derek, what if they—”

“No!” Derek shouted, slamming Scott back hard against a tree, pressing his forearm against Scott’s throat. “They didn’t turn him! They didn’t kill him! We just need to _find_  him!”

“Derek, it’s been three days!” Scott insisted miserably. “He’s been gone three days. There’s no way…” Scott trailed off, and Derek could see his eyes beginning to water.

Pushing himself away from his Alpha, Derek turned back towards the lost trail, throat burning. He wanted to hurt something. He wanted to find one of those blood-sucking motherfuckers and skin them alive.

He knew Scott was right. He knew that there was very little chance of them finding him alive, or even _himself_ , but he couldn’t. He _couldn’t_. He didn’t care what he found, he just had to keep looking. It was better than never knowing.

It had been two weeks since the deaths had started. Eleven days since they’d discovered the Vampire nest that had moved into town. Six days since they had come up with a plan to get rid of them.

And three days since Stiles had gone missing.

But Scott was right when he said Stiles’ scent was all over town. It was like the Vampires had stripped him naked and were running all around town in his clothes, trying to lead them astray.

“Derek,” Scott said, voice soft. He sounded like he was in pain, as if every word escaping him was a kick to the gut. “Derek, we have other people to protect. We can’t… we can’t keep spending our time looking for Stiles. We aren’t going to find him.”

Rage exploded through Derek, fierce and overpowering. He rounded on the other wolf angrily in his beta shift, and roared in his face, eyes flashing blue. Scott roared back, and when red began to flare around the edges of his irises, Derek felt himself submitting, shifting back to human form and more miserable than Scott smelled.

Scott seemed to regret the action as soon as he did it, face twisting guiltily and eyes downcast.

“I don’t want to believe it, either,” Scott said softly. “I want him to be okay. I want to find him. But other people are dying, Derek. They did this on purpose. They’re making sure we stay busy looking for Stiles so that we stop protecting other people. That’s not… That’s not what Stiles would’ve wanted.”

Derek wanted to snap at him that he didn’t care what Stiles would’ve wanted. He didn’t care about anything but _finding_  Stiles. Having him back with him.

Stiles had been the only one to care about Derek while he’d been gone. The only one to text him, to keep him up to date on things, to check in and make sure he was doing okay. He was the only one who’d driven out to the middle of nowhere with some clothes and food for Derek when he’d spent a month as a wolf and had finally shifted back to human form before he forgot what that felt like. He was the only one who’d comforted Derek when Cora had died fighting against Kate a year ago.

Stiles meant _everything_  to him. Stiles was his everything now. Every moment of his existence was dominated by thoughts of him. His laugh, his bright eyes, his stupid incessant talking.

Derek couldn’t lose Stiles. Stiles was the last piece of him that he had left. If he lost Stiles, he lost everything.

If he lost Stiles, he would turn into a wolf, and never turn back. He would have nothing left. He would let himself go feral, losing himself to the animal within. He would disappear.

Raking one hand through his hair, he felt a pulsing headache starting behind his eyes, the annoying clanging of metal on metal still drifting through the air. It was starting to irk him, the sound going non-stop for days. He didn’t know what it was, and he didn’t care, he just wanted it to _stop_!

It never did. It just kept going, on and on. It stuttered sometimes, almost as if it were finally going to cease, and then would pick back up again. Persistent. Annoying. A constant tap, tap, tap of metal on metal.

Scott’s phone buzzed, disturbing the stillness of the forest, and he reached into his pocket for it, putting it to his ear.

“Liam.”

 _“We found the nest,”_ the other Beta said, voice loud enough for Derek to hear.

Derek’s head whipped in Scott’s direction, the other speaking the words he wanted to ask before he could.

“Stiles? Was he there?”

 _“No,”_  Liam said quietly. _“We killed most of them. A few tried to get away, but we managed to drag them back. Asked them where Stiles was, and they just laughed.”_

“Why didn’t you tell us you’d found the nest?” Derek snapped angrily.

 _“I tried,”_  Liam said dryly. _“You hung up on me.”_

Derek just snarled angrily, turning and beginning to pace. Stiles wasn’t there, but they had some Vamps. Derek would torture every last one of them until they told him where the human was. He would peel their skin from their bodies, if he had to. He _would_  find Stiles!

Scott asked where they were, and upon receiving a response, he told them they’d be there soon and hung up. Then, they stood in the forest, Scott’s eyes on Derek, who didn’t move.

A part of him wanted to race through the woods, back to the Camaro. He wanted to get pulled over for driving so fast towards where Liam and the others were with the Vamps.

But another part of him couldn’t bear to move. What if they went and tortured the bloodsuckers for hours and still didn’t get answers? What if they just laughed, let themselves be killed, and left Stiles to rot wherever he was?

If he was even still alive.

Derek shook his head violently at the thought, then spun and slammed his fist against the closest tree. Bark split and fell to the ground, pain arcing through his hand, but even as he pulled it away from the tree, knuckles bloody, the injury was already beginning to heal.

He breathed hard, anger racing through his veins, white hot rage boiling in his stomach. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t _right_!

And fucking hell!

“Shut up!” Derek bellowed, voice echoing off the trees, making them shudder beneath the sheer force of it.

Silence fell, but it didn’t even last a second. The metallic tapping was still there, not even having paused, whatever it was making Derek _crazy_.

“Derek,” Scott said quietly. “We should go.”

Growling, he turned on his heel and began stalking back towards where the Camaro was parked. “That fucking noise. It’s driving me crazy! Just tapping all the fucking time!”

“Yeah,” Scott agreed, lips pressed together in annoyance. “I tried figuring out what it was the other day. It only started up recently, a couple of days ag—”

Scott walked into Derek when the other stopped abruptly, horror slowly spreading through his chest.

It was a constant sound. Tap. Tap. Tap. Every now and then, it stuttered. It had started a few days ago.

How _many_  days ago?

When he turned to stare at Scott wide-eyed, he felt like he’d just come to the same conclusion, horror and guilt etched into the lines of his face.

They both began to run, leaping over roots and crashing through the forest, slapping branches away and dodging trees at rapid speed. Derek skid to a halt, sliding slightly on the fallen leaves, spinning in a circle, Scott right beside him.

“That way!” Scott pointed urgently and they both began to run again. They were nearing the road by then, but the sound was getting louder, still the same, steady beat.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Derek was through the trees first, almost running right into the road before catching himself. There were no cars in sight, the road not heavily travelled, and it was well past midnight. They looked around before Derek spotted a grill in the ground beside the road, a few feet from them.

He raced for it, skidding to his knees beside it and wrenching it clean out of the ground. The sound was louder now, and Derek could smell him.

Fuck, he could _smell_  him!

“Stiles!” he shouted, scrambling into the hole. Scott was right behind him, the two of them hitting the ground running, heading towards the sound.

It had stuttered for the briefest of moments, like whoever was doing it had heard the shout. Then it started back up, still the same slow, steady beat, but somehow louder. Derek focussed on nothing else but that sound, feet slapping against the wet ground. Liquid sloshed around underfoot, but he and Scott didn’t concern themselves with it, racing towards the sound.

After five minutes, Derek could hear a heartbeat. It was slow, alarmingly so, but it was there. It was _there_.

“Stiles!” he shouted once more, wanting him to know they were there. Wanting him to hang on. They were coming.

Derek wasn’t sure where they were beneath Beacon Hills, but the few grills they passed seemed to cast more light on them. When they rounded another corner, down near the end of the underground tunnel they were in, Derek saw a mass of limbs on the ground.

One wrist was chained up above the slumped figure, looped through a pipe and locked together with a padlock, the manacle tight against pale skin. The annoying tapping sound that could be heard was made evident when the hand pulled away from the pipe, and then shifted back towards it, the metal of the chains hitting the pipe, causing the sound to echo all the way down the line.

“Stiles!”

The tapping stopped, but the figure didn’t move. Derek inhaled deeply, lungs burning at the smells that invaded his olfactory system, but he didn’t care. He could smell him. He could _smell_  him! It was Stiles!

Not dead Stiles. Not turned Stiles. Regular, human, _alive_  Stiles.

He reached him faster than he’d thought possible, falling to his knees beside him, pain sparking up his legs. Panic settled into his gut at the smells that hit him from this close.

“Stiles,” he said, reaching forward to cup his face and lifting it from its bowed position.

Scott inhaled sharply behind him and Derek felt sick to his stomach. There was so much blood, the smell of it sharp and metallic. It was almost overpowering. There were multiple punctures in his neck, a few on his wrists, and when Derek looked into his face, Stiles’ eyes were unfocussed.

“Hey Der,” he slurred, pressing his weight forward into him. “Knew you’d find me.”

Derek wrapped his arms around him, hugging him tightly and feeling his panic beginning to mount. It looked like the Vampires had been feeding off him since they’d caught him. The smells the pack had been following around town the past few days had been Stiles’ blood. The Vampires had probably fed off him and smeared his blood on their skin, their clothes. Anything to drive the pack crazy trying to find him.

“Get him loose,” Derek ordered, forgetting that Scott was meant to be giving the orders as Alpha. Derek didn’t care, he couldn’t let go of Stiles.

Scott obeyed anyway, reaching forward and breaking the padlock. He quickly freed Stiles’ trapped wrist and when it was loose, it fell limply to Stiles’ side. It was rubbed raw and bloody, and Derek could feel Stiles breathing shallowly against his neck.

“I got you,” Derek promised, holding him more tightly. “I got you. You’re okay.”

“You found me,” Stiles slurred. “Knew you’d find me,” he said again.

“I found you,” Derek confirmed. “I got you, Stiles.”

“I’m gonna find the closest way out,” Scott said, and Derek nodded stiffly, listening to his footsteps recede quickly.

They needed to get Stiles out and to a hospital, now. Who knew how much blood he’d lost, and with all the open wounds he had, this dank, dirty sewer probably wasn’t the best place for him.

Derek tightened his grip, holding Stiles so tightly he was sure he was hurting him, but he couldn’t make himself let go.

Stiles let out another shaky breath, and he raised trembling hands after a moment, curling his fingers into Derek’s shirt and clenching tightly.

“You found me.”

“I found you,” Derek confirmed once more, pressing his lips to Stiles’ temple and closing his eyes. “I will always find you,” he promised. “No matter what.”

**END.**


End file.
